


Don't Say Forever

by Ayngelcat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Adult Themes, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warnings: Adult themes, course language<br/>Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, or any of the characters or scenarios from the series within this story.<br/>Prompt: End of days</p><p>Notes: Set just before the Combaticons get put in Megatron's detention centre. Smokescreen makes a last ditch attempt to save Swindle from getting put away. Originally posted here: http://combatsalesjeep.livejournal.com/2931.html</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Say Forever

“You have five thousand astroseconds,” said the tall, thin grey mech whose melancholy demeanor perfectly befitted the dreary surroundings. The door shut with a loud metallic clang, and there was the click of a formidable lock, of the type not designed to let anybody leave. Footsteps receded in the corridor.  
  
They sat opposite each other at the grey metal table in the cramped cell with the high ceilings. Save for a lone camera in one corner which monitored their every move, the room was bare.  
  
Swindle’s hands were on the table, clasped. He twisted them, restlessly, a gesture matched by the nervousness in his purple optics and the way in which he started at every muffled clang or shout from outside. Smokescreen, unable to avert his gaze from the golden mech who had become such a large part of his life, reached out and took one hand, squeezing it gently in his.  
  
Swindle did not resist. He looked at the red and blue mech with the doorwings, managing a thin smile. “Well, at least it got commuted,” he said. “This is better than deactivation.”  
  
Smokescreen nodded. He was far from convinced of that fact. His systems winced at the thought of what lay ahead for his former lover, of the loss of physical form, the chilling isolation from all ever known, loved or enjoyed, the deprivation of all the senses, the utter desolation of such existence for …. _maybe for all time. If he makes it through the procedure._  
  
But Smokescreen could not think of that possibility. Must not. For Swindle’s sake. If not for his own.  
  
“I don’t reckon it’ll hurt,” said Swindle, with another pitiful attempt at cheer. His hand twitched within Smokescreen’s.  
  
It would, of course. The pain of separation was, by all accounts, equaled only by the disorientation, the panic, the desperation to get back to a physical form which could not be. All those factors were why some mechs didn’t make it.  
  
“No, no, I – uh – so they say, yeah …” Smokescreen found his voice. He chastised himself, knowing that whilst he needed to be supportive, he should not pretend this would be other than what it was.  
  
“Probably won’t be in for long!” said Swindle. But now the scared, turborat in a corner look was back.  
  
Smokescreen squeezed his hand. “No, It might not be long,” he said, knowing full well it would be. _Please don’t say ‘forever.’_  
  
Swindle’s hand twitched, the fear on his face now palpable. “Smokescreen - what if it _is_ for a long time. For a very long time. Like – indefinitely? _Smokescreen what if it is ...?_  
  
“Don’t say that, Swin!” His lover's fear was sickening; terrible. But perhaps this was the chance Smokecreen had been waiting for.

He clasped Swindle’s hand with both his own. “Look - let me try and get you out!” he whispered. “Let me help you!” If only Swindle would. Smokescreen wanted the latter so much. As much – if not more - than the former.  
  
But the fear seemed to go out of Swindle as quickly as it had come. Instead, a resolute look appeared. “No can do, Smoke,” he said.  
  
 _“Why?”_ Smokescreen whispered. He hated to think that he'd failed again, at this final hour - yet he knew this was so. Frustration manifested in a tear that made its way down one cheek. He brushed his face. “You know I can at least give it a go, Swin!”  
  
Swindle paused. He swallowed. “I’m part of things - I have to go down with them, Smoke” he said. And despite all, there was a touch of pride in his voice.  
  
“But you don’t have to! All you did was supply money!” Smokescreen insisted. “I know a good lawyer – one who acts for the Towers mechs. If I can get the money together …. I mean _-_ its not as if you maimed or _killed_ anyone!"  
  
But Swindle’s face wore the ghost of a smile. “Yes I did,” he said.  
  
Smokescreen refused to believe that. It could not be. No! Anger rose inside as the real reason tugged at his spark. There was a silence. Tension grew like a tangible mist, thickening.  
  
“This is because of that rotory, isn’t it?”  
  
Swindle removed his hand. ”Not specifically!”   
  
“It is! You've got a _thing_ for him!” The Datsun's optics blazed. “Well let me tell you, he’s a waste of space, Swindle. If it was the other way around, he wouldn’t be doing this for you!”  
  
But Swindle shook his head. “It doesn’t make any difference,” he said.  
  
Incenced now at the mere thought of the Combaticons - those unmentionables that had led Swindle to this situation, had ruined their life together - Smokescreen wasn’t listening. “Bunch of crooks and thugs,” he raged, “ I curse the day you ever got involved with them!”  
  
“Smokescreen ….” Now it was Swindle’s turn to reach out and take his hand. “Try and see,” he whispered. “See that I can’t leave any of them. They’re the only thing that gave me value in my life, made it all seem worthwhile.” His optics were large and very purple.  
  
Smokescreen’s optics blazed bright blue. “The only thing?” he cried. “ _What about me, Swindle?_ What about all the times, the memories?” He pulled Swindle closer, “all the times we could still have?”  
  
Swindle looked at him sadly. “Our times were good," he said. “But its not the same. You don’t understand!”  
  
“You can’t be serious!” Desperation rose, a sickening tide of hopelessness. Smoescreen _couldn't_ have lost. “You’d choose that piece of scum over me ?”  
  
Swindle didn't answer. But he squeezed Smokescreen’s hand again. “Smokey,” he said. “It’s not a matter of choice. It’s a matter of – loyalty."  
  
“Loyalty – _you!_ ” Smokescreen burst out. “That’s pitscrap, Swindle and you know it!” He dropped his voice, glancing at the camera. “Let me help you!” he urged.  
  
“ _I can’t!_ ”  
  
There were footsteps in the corridor, a clink in the lock and the cell door swung open. The greyfaced, officious looking mech appeared. “It’s time,” he said, matter of factly.  
  
“No!” said Smokescreen. He hung on to Swindle’s hand.  
  
“I’m sorry,” said the grey mech. Two similarly sparkless looking entities appeared behind him. “If you don’t mind, Sir …”  
  
Swindle looked at Smokescreen. “I’ll be OK,” he whispered.  
  
Stricken, Smokescreen stood up. Handcuffs were applied to Swindle, who made a feeble attempt at a defiant look, tossing his head as though this were a matter of not much import. But Smokescreen watched with an ache in his spark as he was ushered to the door, unable to ignore the fear now very evident in his movement.  
  
At the door, Swindle halted, forcing the guards to stop. He turned back.“  
  
“Smokescreen - you will still be here when I come back?” he whimpered.  
  
“Swindle!” Smokescreen melted, crossing the floor in an instant. “I'll always be here. I'm here now....” He would comfort him, be with him, could still save him. But a grey arm reached out, preventing any such attempt.  
  
“I’m sorry sir. Please move back.” said greyface. He turned to the guards. “Move it out now!”  
  
“Smokescreen …don't let it be forever....” Swindle’s voice rose in a strangled utterance. There was one last view of the terrified purple optics staring over his shoulder before he was gone from the room.  
  
“Swindle,” Smokescreen yelled out. “I love you. I’ll get you out, I promise, I won’t stop till I find a way!”  
  
 _“Don’t let it be forever …”_ They were the last agonized words Smokescreen heard before the footsteps, accompanied by muffled sobs, died in the corridor and the grey walls closed in.  
  
“I’m sorry Sir.” The voice was as expressionless as before. Smokescreen sank to the table, his face in his hands.

 


End file.
